


night has always pushed up day

by sapphire2309



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Aftermath, Blood, First Aid, Implied/Referenced Immortal Husbands, M/M, Self-Harm, Self-Worth Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2019-12-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:47:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21683968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphire2309/pseuds/sapphire2309
Summary: Alexander is gentle. Magnus doesn't know what else he expected from his husband.He knows what he deserved.The two are not the same.(A continuation ofyears of thought without release.)
Relationships: Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood
Comments: 14
Kudos: 110





	night has always pushed up day

**Author's Note:**

> Please mind the tags. 
> 
> This is a follow-up fic, and would make most sense in context, but can be read as a standalone.
> 
> Title taken from After the Storm by Mumford and Sons.

It doesn't last forever. 

Tear tracks run dry. Sobs slow. Spasms cease. And Magnus is left there, lying in the arms of his lover, limp and worn out, surrounded by the detritus of decisions made by someone he doesn't recognize, someone he barely even resembles. 

He looks up.

Alexander has his eyes closed, his entire being focused on holding Magnus close. He's still humming intermittently. The vibrations are soothing against Magnus's skin. 

Magnus touches the side of Alexander's face with the backs of his fingers, wonderstruck. Crusted blood flakes off his hand. 

Alec's eyes blink open. "Hey," he says, a soft smile shining forth.

Magnus worships the lines of his husband's face with trembling fingertips. "What did I ever do to deserve you," he says, not a question but awed reverence, _I am Bane, I wreak destruction, why would anyone ever hand me something so precious, so beautiful._

Alec catches his bloodstained hand by the wrist and moves it away from his face. A wise move. Alexander does not deserve to be sullied with the remnants of his foolishness. 

Alec's eyes grow sorrowful in a way that he does not understand. 

"Let's get you cleaned up," Alec says softly, and Magnus doesn't know what else he expected from his husband. 

He knows what he deserved. 

The two are not the same.

Magnus grumbles under his breath. He does not want to move. He lacks the energy, and more importantly, the motivation.

Alec sighs fondly. "Okay," he says. Magnus is known without having to speak, and that is not a bad thing.

He slumps against the wall when Alec leaves. It is cold, and doesn't have arms. He tolerates it because he knows it is temporary.

Soon enough, Alec returns, carrying sundry first aid paraphernalia. Magnus watches as he folds himself elegantly to sit on the floor, neatly arranges around himself the things he’s holding, and then holds out a hand, expectant.

Magnus offers up his arms like a sinner craving absolution, and Alexander _gives_. His focus is absolute as he wipes Magnus's arms clean with a warm cloth, smears them with a poultice, wraps them in gauze. Magnus gazes into the face of his saviour, wondering, _what would I ever do without you, my heart, my soul, I love you more than I love myself, even after all these decades._

Time slides past.

Alec sets his things aside and sighs with relief, apparently satisfied with his work. He rises to his feet and offers Magnus a hand with the gentle words, "Let's go to bed." 

Magnus acquiesces. It's only a short walk away, and Alec seems to be offering himself as support for the duration of the journey. He gives himself away and fumbles along to Alec’s directions, lets himself be supported, lets himself be laid down to rest on the bed.

When Alec makes to leave him there, however, he whines and clings to Alec's arm. 

"I'll be right with you, I promise, I just need to straighten up the bathroom," Alec says, and that, that is unacceptable. Magnus flicks his fingers irritably, vanishing the mess. He doesn't want Alexander to waste any time doing silly mundane things away from him when he could be _holding him_ instead.

Alec huffs a laugh and slides into bed next to Magnus, lying on his back, perfectly straight. Magnus immediately takes advantage, draping himself over Alexander, filling the crevices and dips of his body, banishing the cold within himself with the luxurious warmth of his husband, his lover, his _love._

He is not much, but he makes a decent ornament for the most beautiful man in the world. Even when he's blowing warm air into his curled hands like he's out in winter cold and his fingers are freezing. 

He may still be shivering in relief.

Alexander is _holding him,_ helping him get warm even though the cold is his own fault, even though he’s a foolish, foolish man who just can’t leave the past behind, no matter how hard he tries.

"What did I ever do to deserve you," Magnus says again, and Alec replies, simply, "You _were_."


End file.
